The Perfect Remedy
by Abarero
Summary: After Yzak is injured during his fight with the Strike, he's rather reluctant to have the wound treated. Leave it to Dearka to figure out just the way to get the job done. DearkaYzak


**Author's Notes:** It should really be no surprise that on watching Gundam Seed, I found myself in love with this pairing. Anyways, this one's for all the other DearkaYzak fans out there.

Major thanks to my beta-reader, Freya-sama2x1x2.

This takes place post-episode 11 of SEED, right after Yzak gets injured.

* * *

**The Perfect Remedy

* * *

**"Watch out!" The mechanic shouted, sparks spitting out from the damaged mobile suit's hatch as it was secured into place. 

Nicol and the other crew members that were gathered around backed up at the warning. Sure enough, the G-unit was short-circuiting on the lower left-side of the hatch.

The green-haired pilot cast a worried glance towards the neighboring G-unit. Once fully landed and secured, the hatch to the Buster flew open and Dearka rushed out.

"Yzak- where's Yzak!"

Lowering his somber gaze, Nicol bit his lip and gestured to the Duel.

"He's not responding."

Golden eyebrows furrowed. Dearka hoped it wasn't worse than what he suspected. If Yzak was unconscious, that meant the injury had to be severe, possibly even life-threatening. But, if he was still somewhat conscious in there, then it wasn't going to be an easy task to get Yzak out of there.

_Don't want everyone to see you looking like a pathetic, injured loser. That's so like you, Yzak. _

And inwardly, he prayed that it was only Yzak's pride that was damaged. If somehow the silver-haired man was…

He cut off his thoughts; not even wanting to touch on the chance that Yzak could be dead.

"Clear out- I'll handle him," Dearka yelled to the group gathered there, as he floated up towards the Duel's cockpit.

Most of the men looked to each other, then with gesture from Nicol, drifted away. The Blitz pilot waited, still worried about his comrades.

"He might need a doctor," he called up to Dearka.

"If we get one, then the doctor will just need a doctor," The Buster pilot quipped back, "Just put some gauze and medicine in Yzak's room and make sure there's enough that I can bandage his mouth shut if I need to."

Nicol shook his head; leave it to Dearka to be joking at a time like this.

"Be careful, Dearka."

"Oh, trust me, I will."

As the remaining crew drifted away, the golden-haired man pounded on the outside of the hatch.

"Yzak! Yzak!"

There wasn't a response and Dearka's mind flooded with worries.

_He's got to be okay. This is Yzak we're talking about._

Taking a deep breath to quell his fears, Dearka tried to act like it was nothing out of the ordinary, and just a standard case of Yzak being stubborn.

"Oh well. I guess you'll just have to die in there and never get the chance to kick Strike's ass. Then again, maybe you're just scared that you'll lose again."

"Shut the fuck up, you ass!" The low growl could be heard from within.

Dearka sighed; mostly in relief, but also because Yzak was being his usual spitfire tempered self. There was nothing more reassuring than hearing the Duel pilot cuss him out at that moment. Knowing it would probably be the fastest way to get the hatch open, he egged Yzak on.

_Sorry Yzak, don't mean to rub salt in the wound- but you have to get out of there._

"Well then," he continued, "Why are you still in there? He didn't hurt you_ that_ bad, did he?"

"I'm going to rip your tongue out and choke you with it if you don't shut up."

Smirking, on getting another retort, Dearka knew that his friend was going to be just fine.

"Oh really now? I'd like to see you try."

That was the last straw for Yzak; the damaged metal of the hatch spat out more sparks as it opened up.

There the silver-haired pilot was, clutching the front of his face. The glass of his suit's helmet was smashed in, and shards of it were now lodged into his skin. All semblance of smug humor drained from Dearka's face when seeing his companion in such a state.

_Yzak…_

"Get the hell over here so…" He paused, wincing, "so I can kick your ass," Yzak grumbled, his vision coming and going as he fumbled with the straps that held him in the seat.

"Clever way of asking for help," Dearka remarked, floating over towards the open hatch.

"Shove it, Dearka."

Laughing inwardly, the Buster pilot knew he'd hit the nail on the head. Moving to the open hatch, Dearka frowned when he saw Yzak close-up. Glass shards littered the front of the cockpit and blood was spattered across the blacked-out monitor.

_Shit. Yzak, we've got to get you out of here._

Not wanting to waste another moment, Dearka reached out to assist Yzak with the straps. Weakly, Yzak's gloved hand tried to push him away.

"I can do it myself. I'm not some retard."

Dearka's frown deepened; even the usual venom in Yzak's voice seemed weaker than usual.

"Your hands keep slipping. There's blood all over them," He reasoned with Yzak, receiving less of a protest this time as he undid the straps.

Brushing the loose glass off Yzak, Dearka began to reach around his waist.

"What do you think you're doing!" He snapped.

_What does it look like, stupid? I'm helping you_. Dearka sarcastically thought, choosing wisely to keep that comment to himself.

"There's blood all over your face, I'll bet you can't see straight."

"Hmph," Yzak reluctantly conceded, finally allowing Dearka to scoop him up into his arms.

But inwardly, the silver-haired pilot seethed.

_Can't he carry me in any other way? I look like some god-damned helpless damsel!_

Hastily, he reached up and got a shaky grip on his helmet.

"Yzak, what are you…"

He yanked the helmet off and tossed it to the floor, giving Dearka a stern glare.

"There. I can fucking see fine now. Put me down, you idiot."

Realizing that angering Yzak any further right now would only make tending to his wound harder, Dearka obliged and sat the Duel pilot down.

"Okay, but you can lean on me if you need to."

* * *

Stubborn. He was absolutely, positively, stubborn, Dearka concluded, as he watched Yzak defiantly trying to make his way down the corridor to his room. He'd refused to be assisted in any way, shape or form- saying that he didn't want the crew to see him in such an undignified manner. 

Dearka could tell from the way he staggered and the way the blood dripped through his fingers that the wound on his face wasn't just a mere scratch.

"I'll help you get that bandaged up," He announced, as the two of them entered the room. Luckily, it looked as if Nicol had already brought by the gauze and medicine he'd requested.

"Bandaged?" Yzak sneered.

"It's bleeding all over, Yzak. It's a bad wound."

"How would you know? It's not on your face. Besides, that bastard on Strike just got a lucky shot. That's all."

"Yzak…"

"I refuse let someone "help" me get bandaged," he said firmly, sitting down the bed and scowling as almost a dare to tell him otherwise

Dearka sighed to himself while picking up the gauze, and muttered a retort,"This isn't the type of injury you can just kiss and make better."

"Well, that sure as hell seems like a better idea than bandaging me up like some infidel."

Raising an eyebrow, Dearka smirked. Perhaps, he had been onto something…

"Oh really? Well, if you do insist."

He walked over, firmly planting his hands on Yzak's shoulders to hold him down. It was a risky ploy, he knew that; but he also knew he had to keep the silver-haired man distracted long enough to get the glass out of his face.

"Dearka, what are you…"

Trailing a hand up the bloodied right-side of Yzak's face, he gently rested it there.

"I'm just making things better, that's all."

Before Yzak could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean or even register what it was Dearka was doing, he found himself being kissed by the other man.

Yzak's left eye widened in shock, too surprised to even notice that Dearka had pulled a large piece of glass out of his face.

Leaning back, and casually examining the bloody shard, the golden-haired man smirked, "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

The silver-haired man just sat there, stunned.

With a shrug, Dearka figured he might as well make good use of the few moments Yzak was silent and went about removing the rest of the glass.

"Sheesh, Yzak. I can't believe you didn't think this needed immediate treatment," he murmured aloud, shoving some pain pills into his hand.

Finally, as if the whole situation had just registered, Yzak's eyes narrowed.

"Did you just- kiss me?"

Grabbing up another butterfly-bandage to hold the gash closed, Dearka pressed it against the skin.

"No, I just saved you from having an even uglier scar than you might have if you'd kept protesting getting this tended to."

Part of Yzak wanted to angrily throw the pills at the wall and throttle Dearka right then and there for making such a mockery of him; but the nerve endings in his face throbbed with such intense pain that he thought better of it. Irritably, he snatched up a glass of water to take the pills with.

"You did…" He paused take the medicine, "didn't you?"

Yzak crossed his arms and waited for a reply. Once he confirmed that it had indeed not been a hallucination on his part, Dearka would have hell to pay.

Dearka stopped wrapping the bandages about the silver-head of hair and tapped his chin.

"Did I what? Kiss you?"

"What the hell do you think I'm talking about!" Yzak snapped, standing up abruptly.

The roll of gauze dropped the floor, trailing the white bandage with it. Dearka bent forward and picked it up, casually tying it off on Yzak's head before replying.

"Yes, I did. Are you happy now? Or, do I have to do it again?"

"Dearka, you asshole…"

Before Yzak could continue his tirade, Dearka leaned forward and left another light kiss on his lips.

"It looks like I found a way to shut you up."

Yzak glared, and determined to have the last word; he grabbed Dearka by the collar.

"Why I ought to…"

"What? Bleed on me?" He laughed, "Oh, I'm so scared! The big, scary Duel pilot is going to…"

Dearka's last words were cut off as Yzak launched a counterattack, firmly planting his lips on the other man's.

_Two can play this game._

Pushing himself away resolutely, the silver-haired man headed for the door, "This never happened, got that?"

Blinking away his momentary shock at having Yzak kiss him, Dearka quickly shot back, "Not the type to kiss and tell, eh?"

"Dearka..." Yzak warned, turning on his heel to face him.

"Oh I see- this is 'our little secret' or something like that."

Yzak moved closer, eyes narrowing on the golden-haired man, "You started it."

"And are you going to finish it?" Dearka asked slyly, eyebrow raised.

He wanted to write off his strange behavior at the pain and anger surging through his veins, or perhaps- the medication he'd been given. But, whatever it was, Yzak knew something inside his head had snapped.

Shoving Dearka back onto the bed, he loomed over him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Dearka managed to ask, trying to hide his apprehension behind his usual attitude.

"So are you," Yzak countered.

It was a power trip; it was retribution; it was the combination of loss of blood and adrenaline. It was anything and everything but what it looked like, Yzak assured himself.

Pausing a moment, he looked to the side, "Did you mean it?"

"Mean it?"

"You know what I'm talking about," he said through gritted teeth; balling his hands into fists as he did so.

Dearka's eyes widened, his mind trying to sort out his own thoughts on the matter.

_I was just joking, right? That's all it was…right?_

"I….I don't know."

"Then figure it out!" Yzak snapped.

The room fell into an uneasy silence between the two, Yzak's patience slowly wearing thinner.

"Well?"

Offering a sheepish smile, Dearka cleared his throat, "Did you want me to?"

Slamming his hands down on the bed on either side of the man, Yzak leaned into him; silver bangs brushing against gold.

"I cannot tell what's going on inside that crazy head of yours; so you need to tell me what the fuck you were thinking- right now."

Swallowing hard, Dearka tried to inch backwards only to find himself pinned.

"Yzak, does it really matter one way or the…"

"Yes, it does," he bit out, his own body high-strung off conflicting emotions.

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of Yzak's mind, everything was falling into place. He could have died fighting Strike, although he'd never admit that, and Dearka- Dearka had always been there for him. So much so that he'd found himself fond of the other man. But, that was also something he'd never admit. If only he could get Dearka to make the first move…

Dearka's thoughts traced over the same facts. The fact that Strike's attack could have easily killed Yzak. The fact that despite the other man's temperament, he found himself oddly amused and attracted to him. And the fact that subconsciously the kiss was both in good humor and in gratitude that Yzak wasn't as severely hurt as it had first seemed.

Not sure what words to say, and still not certain if Yzak wanted to kiss him or kill him at that moment, Dearka gave a lopsided grin.

"Is this your weird way of saying you want me to kiss you, Yzak?"

The silver-haired man's face faltered, not expecting to have that thrown back at him. When he didn't get a reply, Dearka realized he'd gotten his answer.

Slowly, he reached up and straightened the loose corner of the bandage.

"Well?" He intoned, leaning up to where his lips were mere centimeters from Yzak's.

Yzak remained silent, but he didn't make any effort to pull away.

"Shut up, Dearka."

It was a half-hearted murmur, almost endearing instead of bitter as his lips ghosted against Dearka's. And, reasoning that it was just a means to make sure the golden-haired man followed his demands, Yzak closed the small gap between them and pressed his lips to Dearka's.

* * *

Nicol was beginning to get worried. Surely Dearka would need more gauze, or at least have sent a message to the rest of the crew about Yzak's condition by now. He knew it wasn't wise to go knocking on Yzak's door, especially since there was about a ninety-nine percent chance that the silver-haired man was in one of his volatile moods. But, he needed to check and make sure that Yzak was indeed okay. 

Armed with more gauze and medication, he halted a moment before knocking on hearing the voices inside.

"You bastard, why didn't you tell me sooner!" Dearka's voice echoed out.

"It didn't seem important!" Yzak's irritated voice shot back.

"Oh yes, I forgot. The only thing 'important' to you is fighting."

"Well, I didn't see you saying anything about it!"

"Excuse me for not wanting to piss you off and get my ass handed to me on a platter."

"So, you admit I could kick your ass?"

"Only if I let you."

The Blitz pilot could already hear a scuffle going on inside, yet the sudden silence perplexed him. It just wasn't like Yzak or Dearka to give up an argument so easily.

He knocked lightly, and not only did he not get an answer, but his worries grew. Hoping he wouldn't get yelled at for it later, he slowly opened the door.

The first thing Nicol noticed was that Yzak seemed to have Dearka pinned to the bed. But, instead of the two looking like they were about to kill each other, they both just stared at Nicol in shock.

"Uh…Nicol. What are you…"

Dearka was cut off as Yzak intervened, "Shut up, Dearka. I'll deal with you later," He turned his harsh glare to the green-haired pilot, "Nicol, what's the meaning of barging in like this?"

"Well, it sounded like you were fighting, so…"

Yzak glared, "So Dearka's being an ass, what's new?"

Nicol sat down the gauze and medicine and slowly backed towards the door.

"Um…Dearka, we might want to leave Yzak alone for a bit."

The golden-haired man just stood casually and walked over to the other bandages.

"Go on ahead, Nicol. With the way Yzak's been ranting, I'm going to have to fix his bandages first."

He looked between the two, and not yet seeing any bruises on Dearka, Nicol realized there wasn't really any other choice. If Dearka was even having trouble with Yzak, the silver-haired man had to be in the worst mood of his life.

"Okay, well…call for help if you need it."

"If I decide we need to tranquilize him, I'll let you know," Dearka replied, earning himself a glare from Yzak.

Nicol blinked a moment, then hoping that it was just a joke, he quietly left the room. Once the door slid closed, the two men looked to each other and smirked.

"So you'll 'deal with me later,' eh?"

Yzak scoffed, dismissing it with a wave of his hand, "You might enjoy that too much, Dearka."

Closing the space between them, Dearka realized there were still the injuries on Yzak's arm to bandage.

"So might you, Yzak."

* * *

THE END 


End file.
